When Love Left
by Visceria
Summary: A short one-shot piece of when Alisa left Jet Black...


i(( Well. This is my first fanfic. My first fanfic for Cowboy Bebop as well. All comments accepted. I do realize how crappy it is, thank you very much. Le sigh.))/i  
  
Looking around the empty, dim apartment, she sighed once more. Many things had been torturing her mind lately... questioning her love... to him.  
  
It was late in the evening, soon he'd come home. And like always, she'd serve him dinner and they'd be the classic little 1930's couple you'd see on all the old movies of romance. The only sad thing to the black and white picture was that it wasn't what she wanted. It wasn't what she wanted at all.   
  
The shoddy furnace rattled in the midst of silence while the old wooden clock in the corner swayed back and forth in a hypnotic pattern. The smell of smoke and peppermint filled the small room... street lights peered their way through the curtain cracks onto the feeble chestnut shaded table.   
  
Tucking a lock of her silky black hair behind her ear, both her slanted eyebrows furrowed. Was this the life she had chosen for herself? Did she really want to be stuck in the 'little wife' role all her days until the very end? She could never tell him any of that though... her thoughts of just getting up one day and leaving. He wouldn't understand... would he?   
  
Shaking her head vigorously to rid her mind of such thoughts, she stood up, pacing around the small clattered room. She felt completely boxed... all alone! No one to tell such problems to... and they sounded small, even laughable. But, to her, it was a sink or swim situation.  
  
It came down to weather she loved him or not. Of course she did! He was a tall, dark and handsome man. Classy and with style. He always had a good answer to any question. Nothing was too big for him! In the end, he always came back to her, sweet as could be. They were happy... right?  
  
But maybe that was the problem right there. He ALWAYS had an answer. He always looked at her like she was just a child. She never could make the right decision! Nothing she did was right! Or maybe it was just that he was always right and not that she was always wrong. And now what was she doing? Was she blaming him for all her faults? Certainly she shouldn't!  
  
Just then, a sharp beeping sound came from the warm oven in the small nook of a kitchen. Quickly running over, heels tapping quickly on the tiles, she placed on the two flower covered oven mitts. Opening the stove, warm, dry heat tickled her face and dance on her porcelain like face.  
  
Removing the tray of fish sticks and French fries, she placed them on the cream colored counter. The aroma of crispy fish filled her nostrils. With a light kick, she closed and the oven and hurriedly tugged off the firm fabric on her hands.   
  
Placing the mitts on the counter, she noticed something in the corner of her eye. A watch. Their watch. It ticked so lightly... soothingly. Her deep chocolate eyes stared at the shimmering gold. As if her answer had been found to her thoughts, she knew what must be done. Slowly her frail hand swept across the magnificent surface, leaving a little smudge of her fingerprints. "Sorry Jet," she muttered, rather ashamed but thrilled and scared at the same time.  
  
Quickly she hurried down the hall to her bedroom, grabbing the cheap leather suitcase, clothes and her jackets which she snugly pulled around her slim body.  
  
She had to be independent, no more leaning on somebody. She loved Jet but, if he loved her in return, he would let her go. Go... for a breath of fresh air.  
  
She rushed through the humble abide, creaked open the door and frowned over looking the living room one last time. Deeply, she inhaled the smell of her old life of being the homemaker, and quietly shut the wooden door closed for the last time, exhaling her foggy breath in the cool winter's air. Free.  
  
Later that evening, the apartment door had opened once more. This time to a young man from the ISSP. Heels tapped around the house and he overlooked it, searching for her. But she wasn't there. In the quiet kitchen, there lay a metal tray of fish stick and fries, cool to the touch. A watch of gold glimmered on the creamy counter top. Alisa had left, and he knew that his heart had went with her... she'd never come back... love would never come back to him. 


End file.
